


all I want for christmas

by hailingstars



Series: simply having a wonderful christmas time [11]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Dealing with past trauma, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, and his air mattress, have yourself a hailing and frosty christmas, rip peter's back, talks about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28418349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars
Summary: “That one’s from all of us,” says May.Peter stops his struggle to gain freedom from the bows and plucks the gift from Mr. Stark’s hand, with caution.“This better not be a glitter bomb,” says Peter, as he begins to tear the paper away.orIt's Christmas Day at the Stark lake house, where everyone gets what they want and Rhodey gets the one thing he doesn't.
Relationships: Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: simply having a wonderful christmas time [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041610
Comments: 18
Kudos: 202





	all I want for christmas

Peter wakes up with an understanding of what Mr. Stark and Happy complain about when they whine about their backs. He aches, and it doesn’t take him long to realize it’s because he’s on the floor, just a thin piece of plastic separating him from the carpet. 

There’s something digging into his back. Something pointy and sharp, and after some groans and a blind search with his left hand, he pulls out Morgan’s plastic magic wand. The yellow star that tops it has pieces of broken plastic sticking out of it’s five sides. 

He throws it across the room, and it hits the belly of an oversized stuffed dragon and lands on the floor, the impact causing it to break into the theme song of whatever cartoon the cursed toy originated from. 

“Petey,” says Morgan. She stands in the doorway, crossing her arms and still dressed in her Christmas pajamas. “It’s not nice to throw things at Princess Fluffy Scales.”

“Sorry, Mo,” says Peter. “Nothing personal, but your wand popped my bed.” 

“But did it give you good dreams?” 

Peter blinks at her, comprehending. “Did you put that thing under the air mattress?” 

“Mmhmm,” says Morgan. “So it would give you good dreams, and so you wouldn’t wake up and attack Uncle Happy again.” 

Peter deflates, unable to be truly angry with Morgan for her wish to give him good dreams, even if now he’s filled with embarrassment and regret about the events that happened early that morning. He hopes Happy isn’t too hurt or traumatized.

“Now come onnnnn,” she says, “daddy won’t let us start opening presents without you, and you sleep forever!” 

“Who’s fault is that?” asks Peter, standing from the floor. “Somebody put a good dream charm under my bed.” 

Morgan laughs, and grabs his hand, pulling him out of the door of her room and towards the stairs. 

When they arrive in the living room, all eyes are on them. 

“You guys could’ve woke me up,” says Peter, scratching his head, embarrassed for the second time that morning and hating the idea that everyone had been waiting for him. 

“A spider needs his beauty sleep,” Mr. Stark tells him. “And the adults needed some peace and quiet.” 

A present gets thrown at him before he can object about not really being that loud, and he’s happy to rip the sparkling red wrapping paper to reveal a pair of lightsaber chopsticks. 

“That’s what you wanted, right?” asks Mr. Stark. “A lightsaber?” 

“These are _awesome,”_ says Peter, too caught up in the novelty of light-up chopsticks to be angry at Mr. Stark for the gag gift. 

Karma hits Mr. Stark in the form of a stuffed cat gifted from Rhodey. Peter doesn’t see what the big deal is until Mr. Stark drops the stuffed animal to the floor and Peter picks it up to read it’s collar.

“Murph - the heroic cat who saved Iron Man,” Peter reads out loud, causing the living room to erupt into laughter. 

“Thought you might want a souvenir.” 

Mr. Stark snatches Murph from Peter and throws her at Rhodey, who only laughs in response. 

“Are you not thankful to that creature for saving you?” Nebula inquires, although it’s ignored by Mr. Stark. 

He’s too busy searching under the tree. He locates the correct box, a package wrapped in blue and white with a shiny silver bow, and hands it to Rhodey. 

“Your turn,” he tells him. 

There’s so much intention in his tone, Rhodey’s smile immediately fades as the whole living room realizes what’s underneath the wrapping paper before it’s ripped off. 

“Tony,” he says, as the wrapping paper floats to the floor and he has the box to a juicer in his hands. “You’re insufferable. Why is this box opened?” 

“I installed a few upgrades,” says Mr. Stark. 

“Hello honeybear,” comes a robotic voice from inside the box. “I’m julie the juicer, here to assist you with all your juicing needs.” 

“I swear to god Tones…” 

Pepper begins passing around more presents to prevent everyone from having to hear the bickering between old college roommates. 

Nebula rips open a box containing a nanotech bangle that transforms into a blade, Morgan opens more toys capable of popping inflatable objects, and May finally gets around to opening her own juicer, the one Bucky and Flash helped Peter find at the mall. 

“Just what I wanted, thank you, Pete,” says May, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “Can you show me how you upgraded Rhodey’s juicer?”

“Su -”

“Absolutely not,” says May. “You will not teach him that. I will not have my kitchen appliances talking to me while I make breakfast.” 

“Oh come on now, May,” says Mr. Stark. “I can make it a sexy voice.” 

Happy’s head perks up from behind a large box of pots and pans. Peter’s gift to him, and a subtle way of asking him to take over all the family meals from now on. 

“Am I dead to you?” 

And so it goes, until there aren’t any more boxes under the tree and the living room floor is littered with torn wrapping paper.

It devolves after Tony wads some paper into a ball and chucks it at Rhodey, devolves into a chaotic circle of everyone hitting each other with balls of sparkling wrapping paper, and with Morgan yelling at Nebula to bring out her blade so they can win.

It’s never really determined who wins, but Peter knows it’s not him. Somehow he ends up pinned to the floor under Mr. Stark’s prosthetic arm while Rhodey sticks bows in his hair. His pleas for Happy’s assistance goes unheard, so he isn’t allowed up until Pepper scolds Mr. Stark and May snatches the bag of bows from Rhodey. 

He’s carefully untangling his hair from the sticky side of the bows when Mr. Stark disappears into the kitchen, then reappears with one last, small present in his hands. 

“That one’s from all of us,” says May.

Peter stops his struggle to gain freedom from the bows and plucks the gift from Mr. Stark’s hand, with caution.

“This better not be a glitter bomb,” says Peter, as he begins to tear the paper away. 

It’s just a regular small cardboard box, and inside, a fuzzy red and blue dice, the kind people hang in their cars. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“Come on,” says Mr. Stark. “Let’s go out to the garage.” 

They suit up for their brief trek through the snow. Peter, May and Mr. Stark pull boots over their pajama bottoms, coats over their t-shirts, and hats over their bed heads, and they’re ready to go. 

The light to the garage comes on as they stumble through the door, and Peter sees it straightaway, something car shaped underneath a tarp.

“No way, you guys got me a car?” says Peter. He grips the tarp by the middle and rips it off. Underneath is… definitely something car shaped. “This is a piece of junk.” 

“This from Betsy’s greatest defender,” says Mr. Stark, turning to look at May. “We didn’t get you a car as much as we got you uh, um -” 

“A project,” May helps him. “Thought it might be fun for you three to have an excuse to tinker around in the garage.” 

“Three?”

“Oh,” says May. “That was one of my conditions for allowing this. Rhodey has to supervise.” 

Tony waits until May wonders over to say hi to Dum-e before whispering to Peter, “Lucky for us your aunt doesn’t know how wild Rhodey can get after a few rum and cokes.” 

“This is great,” says Peter. “Thanks, Mr. Stark, May, this is perfect.” 

“I thought we’d at least hear one protest about replacing Betsy,” says May. 

“This boy _does_ get abnormally attached to machines.” 

May gives Mr. Stark a pointed look, then looks at Dum-E, then back again. 

“Don’t compare Dum-E to Betsy,” says Mr. Stark, an air of offense in his voice. 

“Hey,” says Peter, an idea hitting him. “Betsy doesn’t have to be dead. We can just save as many parts as we can, and put them in the new car.” 

“If you can find any salvageable parts of that car, Pete, go right at it.” 

Peter grins at the thought of Betsy living on. “I’m calling this one the Spidey Mobile.” 

*

The rest of the day drifts by in a magical haze. 

After the dinner Happy and Pepper slaved over, and Mr. Stark was banned from interfering with, Peter settles down on the couch and watches Nebula and Morgan make a fort with the boxes her toys came in. 

He yawns, and stretches, and sinks into the cushions, making himself comfortable. 

He isn’t tired. That’s the wrong word to use. Tired implies there’s something to be tired from, it’s the way he’s felt most of the last year. 

The way he’d feel every time he’d see the title of J. Jonah Jameson’s newest video, or another new problem popped up that needed to be solved. 

This feels different, so he’s not tired, just dopey and drugged by the good spirit wafting around through the house.

“Nebby,” says Morgan. “When can I come on space adventures with you and that talking raccoon?” 

“How about never,” says Mr. Stark, as he enters the living room. “Especially as long as Mr. Lord is leading the way.” 

“I do not take orders from that dancing idiot.” 

“Good to know,” says Mr. Stark. “But Morgan’s feet are still staying on earth, for the time being.” 

“Aww, dad, you’re so lame.” 

“Did you just -“ says Mr. Stark, with a smirk. “Did you just insult - ok, that’s it.”

Mr. Stark picks up the cardboard sword from the floor, waves it around, causing Morgan to shriek and crawl inside the fort made from boxes. 

The sounds of Morgan giggling stays with Peter as he leaves the room and walks into the dinning room. He’s greeted by the soft sound of All I Want for Christmas is You playing on the stereo. 

Happy and May slow dance, hands clasped, shoulders touching, lost to the rest of the world, and Peter watches them, wishing MJ were around for a dance. His thoughts are interrupted by Pepper laughing as Rhodey tells her one of his military stories. 

It’s a blissful, hazy kind of Christmas Day, and Peter’s happy that, at least for today, he doesn’t have anything to be tired about.

Until he blinks. Until a thought crosses his mind, and he’s wide awake. 

Christmas evening slips away, and everyone goes off to bed, leaving Peter left on his own to wander down to the basement and sit in front of the TV with a game controller in his hands, blowing up zombies, trying to distract himself from his sudden, sullen mood. 

He’s on his second try to clear the last level when he hears the door creak open and footsteps traveling down the stairs. Mr. Stark sits on the couch next to him, distracting him long enough to get his arm eaten off. 

Peter sighes, drops the controller to the floor. 

“Zombies are one thing I’m glad we’ve never faced.”

“Don’t jinx it, Tony,” says Peter, laughing despite his mood, despite the game over screen flashing on the TV. 

“Did you just call me Tony?” 

Peter shrugs. “Suppose it’s about time.” 

“Holy shit, I feel like I should hug you,” he says, then narrows his eyes at him, sobering up after his astonishment. “But you don’t really look like you’re in the mood. Wanna tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” 

“I don’t know,” says Peter. It all comes pouring out, as if all he needed was for someone to ask. “Just - I mean, maybe we really do face zombies? Then what’s next? There’s _always_ gonna be some other terrible thing… I mean, that’s our life isn’t it? It’s what I signed up for but… it’s just today was great, but now it’s -”

“-Over,” says Tony, finishing the sentence. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’ve had a pretty great month for the first time in over a year, but that’s not over just because the holidays are over.” 

“But it might be. The bad things… they never stop coming.” 

“Yeah, that’s true, but the good days won’t, either,” says Tony. “I know because I know May, and she’s not about to let your life be a long string of miseries. And neither will I.” 

“I guess so,” says Peter. He straightens his shoulders, then leans back into the couch cushions. “I guess I’m just always bracing for the next bad thing.” 

“The only next bad thing for you is gonna be listening to Happy sing in the shower every morning.” 

Peter laughs. “Guess I’m leaving for school early from now until college.” 

“See? College,” says Tony, bumping his shoulder into Peter’s. “Now you’re thinking right. It’s gonna be a good life, Pete. A little chaotic, probably, because it’s you and you’re allergic to stupid things, but it’ll be good.” 

Although Tony’s words are a comfort to him, like a heated blanket on a cold, snowy night, Peter doesn’t know if he can believe, can allow himself to hope, that what’s to come is good. 

“Now this Tony business,” he says. “It’s sticking around, right? You’re not just calling me by my actual name cause you’re down here having a post-Christmas breakdown.” 

“No, _Tony_ ,” says Peter. “It’s a real thing.” 

“ _Good.”_ Tony ruffles his hair and pulls him into a hug. When he releases him, he looks at the TV and says, “Okay Pete, time for you to teach me how to video game.” 

“If I have to teach you, it’s already a lost cause.” 

“I’ll have you know Rhodey and I -”

“Technology has advanced since back in your day, Grandpa.” Peter stands from the couch, and goes to fetch the second controller from the TV stand. 

“Really regretting not getting you that coal already,” says Tony. “And who exactly do you think was doing all that advancing?” 

“Video games are different.”

“Just get ready to lose to an old man, you brat.” 

There’s fondness to his voice, and Peter realizes Tony doesn’t actually mind being called old.

He’s earned his age. Fought in the most dangerous of wars, and won, and now it’s Peter’s turn to carry on in Tony’s retirement. So he doesn’t know when the next bad thing will come, or if it’ll be zombies, but he at least knows, can believe, that he’ll always be right here on Christmas, together with family.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this my last contribution to this series!! I've loved writing this, along with frostysunflowers, and I love that a lot of you all have loved it as well! I hope you all had a good holiday, and a safe New Years celebration, even if it looks a little different this year 
> 
> as always, thank you so much for reading <3 
> 
> drop a comment and/or kudos and let us know what you think


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